And the World Spins Madly On
by Ciela Night
Summary: It's Hallowe'en 2007: Jess has returned for the night but the Winchester she meets isn't the one she's looking for.


**Notes/Disclaimers:** Don't own 'em and no profit is being made. Vague speculation for the end of season two, but no spoilers except for episodes already aired.

Beta-ed by lemmealone on LJ.

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7:55 pm Halloween 2007

The door slammed shut in the apartment. "Matt? Where the hell did I put the keys?" A woman dressed as Frankenstein's bride flew into the room, her eyes darting around before finally landing on the bedside stand where the set of keys lay. "Hah, found them!" she called, as she paused in front of her vanity mirror.

"C'mon then!" a male voice answered from elsewhere in the apartment and the woman straightened from where she was teasing her bangs higher. "Coming." She grabbed another tube of lipstick and turned off the light as she exited.

The digital clock in the room blinked as it hit eight o'clock and then with a bright flash went out. Standing in the middle of the room, she felt a shiver of apprehension as it began. It was a strange feeling – feeling one's bones forming from some invisible material, surrounding her, grinding and shifting together as muscles and tissues knit together. Blood began pumping and flowed down through arteries and capillaries, pins and needles tingling as dead limbs came to life. She took a tentative breath, feeling her lungs expand then contract and hearing the distant thud in her ears. A thrill of excitement ran through her as she recognized the sound of her heart.

She ran her thumb down her left forearm. It was smooth, soft with faint resistance as it made contact with the tiny hairs. She ran her hands over her face, sighing in relief as it traced familiar lines and then down her chest, bunching up the fabric of the nightgown. Not the crispy, pain-filled appendages that she had left earth with. No sticky red blood sliding down from the slash on her stomach. No earth-shattering pain. No flames. No heat. She shuddered as the shadowy memories of that night came rushing into her head. She took a deep breath and pushed them back – no time for that tonight.

Jess opened her eyes.

The room was dim from half-pulled blinds, yellow light from the street lamps coming through the window. She ran over to the window facing the street, nearly tripping on the clothes strewn about on the floor in her haste. She yanked the blinds aside and opened up the window, hoping desperately that it was still there.

She gave a little cry as she spotted the black Impala parked on the corner, incongruously standing out from all the other Toyotas and Mazdas and Jeeps that surrounded it on the street.

She turned from the window and started moving. She glanced at the mirror, noticing the flash of blond hair and white cotton swirling around but she didn't stop, except to grab a pair of sneakers lying beside the bed and put them on, hopping on one foot at a time as she made her way out of hers and Sam's old apartment.

The night was bright and the air had a faint smell of burning leaves to it. She paused at the door, what if she ran into someone who recognized her? She cautiously made her way down the street but her steps gradually became quicker as she approached the car. _Sam._

Twenty feet away from the Impala, she could see the shadow of the lone occupant move and straighten up from where it was slouching in the driver's seat. The window rolled down and something bright flashed in the vehicle before poking out the window. She kept walking forward.

"Sam?" she called. She took another couple of steps before stopping as realization sunk in.

"Stop right there, Jess," Dean Winchester told her calmly. He adjusted his line of sight so the gun lined up perfectly with her chest.

She froze. "I… don't shoot," she said. "Please."

"You're dead," Dean said, matter-of-factly, the gun still pointed at her. "It's Halloween, and forgive me for thinking this – but most horror stories have a similar sort of beginning. I'm not keen on having my face torn off, neck snapped, or brains eaten by my brother's dead girlfriend." He shrugged. "I'm funny like that."

Jess bit her lip, hard. She heard voices behind her and footsteps approaching. "People are coming," she said quickly. "And maybe I am – well, I am dead," She tried not to wince as those words left her lips. "But I don't mean any harm. I just want to talk – to Sam."

She took a step closer. "And if you shoot me, you'll have to explain to the police, the hospital or your brother why you shot me. I'm also already dead – won't that be hard to explain?" She stared at him as she took another step, daring him to shoot. She felt strangely calm about the whole situation. She had already died once, what was another time?

Dean continued to hold the gun up for a few more seconds as he considered it. He glanced back at the approaching group of trick-or-treaters. Lowering the gun, he gave a quick jerk with his head. "Get in then."

She made her way over to the passenger side of the car. Dean leaned over and unlocked and opened the door for her, moving back quickly to his side as she entered.

Jess took a deep breath as she sat down, leaning back into the cushions of the seat and breathing in the stale air. She knew this was where Sam sat, this was his spot – only he wasn't here to fill it.

"Where is he?" she asked softly.

"Hold out your hand, Jess." She looked up to see Dean uncorking an old flask.

"Why?"

"Just do it," he ordered.

She glared at him but held out her hand. She'd do whatever it took to get her to Sam, even if it meant following his brother's weird requests. She watched as Dean poured what looked like water over her palm and watched intently as it dripped down onto the seat.

She pulled her hand back. "Satisfied?"

"Yeah." It looked like he wished otherwise. He tucked the flask back in his jacket.

"Where is he?" she asked again.

Dean looked up from where he was tucking the gun back in a holster. "Sam? He's gone," he said simply.

"Gone?" Jess panicked. _Sam couldn't be dead, he couldn't… she would have known._ "He's not de…."

"What?" Dean stared at her hard. "No, he's not dead. But he is missing. Left yesterday-"

"Wait, what? I don't understand…" Jess said. "I've seen this car- I knew he was here. I knew he'd be waiting here."

Dean pursed his lips. "He's been talking about seeing you all week. We've been staking out your old apartment for the last three days. Why he left…" he shrugged.

"That's not like Sam," she said. "He wouldn't just leave, he'd have left a note or something…"

Dean let out a wry chuckle. "He left a note all right, but all it said was 'I'll be back after Halloween'. I figured this was the best chance waiting here, considering what he's been talking about all week." He shook his head. "Captain Cryptic. He's gotten worse since you've known him."

"He was plenty cryptic when I knew-know, still know him," Jess muttered, remembering all the times she had pressed Sam about his family.

Dean flashed her a brilliant smile. "Well, there you have it, sweetheart. I guess we'll both be waiting for him tonight."

"I guess so." It didn't look like she had any other choice.

There was silence in the car. Jess cleared her throat and looked out the window. There was so much that she needed to know, wanted to know- but she was waiting for Sam.

"So, Jess…" Dean started. "Want to tell me how you arrived here tonight?" The question was casual but the intent behind it was not.

"I found myself in our old apartment - that's all I remember," she answered. She hadn't done anything, just remembered the half-forgotten pages of Introductory Folklore and the movies of her childhood- Casper, Ghost- any bits and pieces of her old life that made her realize that what she wished might be possible. She had just waited in the apartment to see if fate would give her the same chance.

"What was it - necromancy spell, body-switching? You're not a zombie, I know that much. Not enough of your body left for that. You're too solid for a spirit, and I have no idea in hell what else you could be." His tone was calm but she could see how still his body had become after her response. Dangerously still.

She stared at him. _Zombie…_ "You're insane…" She pushed herself further against the window, hand on the door handle and she debated getting out.

"Am I? I'm not the one who's dead,_ Jess_. It's Halloween and you're walking around when you should be beyond the pearly gates or wherever! Why are you still here?" Dean demanded.

"I don't know!" she shouted. "I don't know. I. Don't. Know." She slumped against the seat. "I was hoping that Sam could…"

"That Sam could… what? Bring you back to life?" Dean pressed her.

Jess straightened up immediately. "No! I just want some answers. That's all. You want the truth? I've been… around the apartment, not knowing what happened to me, why it happened…"

She took a deep breath. "It's Halloween. It's supposed to be the day when ghosts walk among the living, right? And ghosts are people with unfinished business. Well, I'm just a spirit whose been granted some time - likely only tonight and I want answers. I was fucking flambéed on the ceiling!"

Trying to keep her voice from shaking, she continued. "I died, as you keep pointing out, on that ceiling, slashed by some man with yellow eyes. And I can't help but think that you and your brother are connected to it- or at least know why it happened. So. Tell me _why_." Her fists clenched as she waited for Dean's response.

Dean looked at her for a long moment, his face covered in shadows so she couldn't read his expression. He let out a noise that sounded like half a sigh and half a laugh.

"What?" she asked belligerently.

"Damn, I wish I'd known you when you were alive, Jess. You must've had Sammy whipped," Dean said, shaking his head.

"If Sam had told me anything about you besides your name, maybe I could've had you over for dinner," she said tartly. "You and your dad. I never knew anything about him either."

Dean sobered up. "Our dad's dead. The same demon that killed you, got him too."

Jess let that sink in. "Demon?"

Dean sighed. "You want the truth? Or do you want to wait until Sam gets here?"

She glanced out the window. Trick-or-treaters passed by, but there was no sign of Sam. "You can start explaining."

She was almost glad when he turned on the radio. It let her mull over the overload of information she had just received. Demon hunters. Sam with some kind of psychic powers. Plans that the demon had for him. The reason why she had died.

"Let me know, if you have any other questions," Dean told her.

Jess nodded.

About half an hour later, he asked her. "You want a cheeseburger?"

She looked at him in confusion.

"Here," he pulled out a brown bag from the back seat. "I got an extra one." He offered it to her.

"Thanks," she said as she took it, giving him a small smile. She settled in to wait.

Dean turned up the radio and the classic rock blared out, filling the silence that lay between them.

She looked at the clock on the dashboard. 4:30 am. She was cold. Hugging her arms, she curled up her legs and huddled in a ball in an attempt to keep warm. The steady scritching of Dean sharpening his knife had replaced the tentative camaraderie of the hours before. He thought he was being subtle but she knew he was watching the time as avidly as she was. His steady, constant glances at her made the pit in her stomach that much worse. Finally, she couldn't stand it anymore, she had to ask. Forcing the words out from stiff lips she stated. "He's not coming, is he?"

Dean's eyes flashed to the dashboard clock before he turned to her. He gave her what she supposed was meant to be a reassuring smile. "Sam's always been - "

"Don't lie," she choked the words out. "Tell me if he's coming."

There was a couple more seconds of the knife sharpening and then slowly, Dean put it down.

He met her eyes steadily, not flinching. "No, he isn't. At least, not as long as I have anything to say about it."

Jess swallowed hard. "What'd you do? Lock him in the motel room?" she demanded, the horror in her chest growing.

Dean grimaced. "Nah, it's not possible to lock Sammy in a room. I used… other means."

There might have been some regret in his voice but she couldn't find any sympathy for him.

"This might be my only chance…" she whispered, her fists clenching. "You bastard. You fucking bastard! What gives you the right?" She raised her hand.

Dean lifted his chin up and raised his arms in an 'I surrender' movement. "Go ahead. Hit me, slap me, whatever you need to do."

She asked again, blinking back tears as she lowered her hand. "What gave you the right?"

He ducked his head, and she could see his jaw clenching.

When she realized there was no swift answer forthcoming, she unlocked the door and swung it open, exiting the Impala. She started walking down the street, the tears flowing faster. The wind blew cold against her skin. Only a few more hours of this, this brief respite from death. And no Sam.

"Jess!" she could hear Dean calling.

She continued walking, thinking of ways she could find Sam. _Maybe she could find a cab, and…_

The car door slammed. "Jess," she could hear him behind her. Hands reached out and touched her shoulders.

She whirled around. "Don't touch me," she hissed.

Dean retreated, taking a couple steps backwards, but he kept his eyes on her face.

"I'm his brother," he said softly. "I'm supposed to protect him."

Jess let out a frustrated sob. "What? I'm such a big threat to him?"

"I thought you could be…" Dean said. "But not anymore," he added quickly as he saw her start to turn away again. He paused. "You don't know what we've been through this last year- hell, since we left your apartment two years ago."

"I think I have a pretty good idea…"

"No. You don't. You haven't been with him every single day. You don't know how his powers have influenced him, you don't know how he's much been fucked up by them," he said fiercely.

"What are you trying to say?" she asked him slowly. "That you think he's evil?"

"No! Jesus, of course not," he said. "Look, maybe if you'd come… if it were a few years later, I wouldn't have done what I did. But Sam doesn't need this kind of temptation. Not now, not so soon after what's happened."

He stared at her, his eyes pleading with her to understand.

She understood. At least, she thought she did but it still didn't mean she had to forgive him or tell him he made the right decision. "I get it," she said, coldly. "But I think you underestimated Sam."

"Maybe," Dean said, after a beat. "But I couldn't take the chance."

They stood in the street, neither willing to say anymore.

"Come back to the car?" he asked, finally.

She took a deep breath. "Are we going to your motel – to Sam?"

"No," he told her frankly.

"Then why should I? Give me one reason why I should go back?" She turned away from him again and stared out onto the empty street. She thought she saw the sky lightening in the east above the buildings.

"It's going to be dawn in a little while," he said, echoing her thoughts.

"I know," she said. Her voice was tight.

"You had to be alone the first time," he said gently.

She didn't respond.

He walked around so he could face her. Jess kept her eyes down.

Slowly, softly, he placed his fingers under her chin and tilted up. She resisted for a moment and then gave in. She looked up into his face. He wasn't that much taller than her and she didn't want to see that look of sympathy in his eyes.

"Jess," he said softly. "You don't have to be alone this time."

She shuddered. "All right," she said, her voice a dry whisper. She allowed him to lead her back to the Impala. Dean took off his coat, placing it on her shoulders as he opened the passenger door.

She relaxed into it, grateful for the warmth.

"I'm sorry," Dean said abruptly, once he was once again sitting across from her.

She swallowed. "Is this an apology for the whole night, or just certain parts?"

"For tonight."

She opened her mouth but he waved his hand. "I'm not done. I'm sorry for that Halloween. For not telling you about our family- although I'm sure that you'd rather hear it from Sam. I'm sorry for not saving you that night."

He shrugged. "I don't expect you to forgive me. But you should forgive Sam, he did the best he could. He was trying to protect you."

"I know," she said.

"Jess-"

"I forgive him," she interrupted him. "And… maybe I'll forgive you too someday."

"So- you're going to go on then? You're okay?" His voice held a thread of hope.

"No."

Dean sighed and rubbed a hand across his face tiredly.

"I need to see him. I don't care how long it takes. I need to see Sam again. Just once. It wasn't fair what you did tonight and you know it," Jess said firmly. "You owe me."

It took a moment, but Dean finally nodded. "You want me to bring him here?"

"I think he'll come without any of your prompting," she said. "But yes. On Halloween, next year, two years from now, five years- some time."

"And if I don't?" he asked.

"Then maybe I'll start being the kind of spirit you hunt," she told him. "And you'll want to spare Sam the pain of having to hunt his old girlfriend."

Dean winced. "Cold tactic," he said.

"Desperate," she corrected. "Do we have a deal?"

After a moment's hesitation he held out his hand.

They shook; she tried to let go of his hand, but he held it tight. Dean nodded towards the windshield and she looked out.

Gold ribbons started to line the edges of the clouds. She felt the sun just hovering below the horizon, just as she felt a bone-chilling cold start from within her.

"Shh, it's all right," Dean told her, his voice soothing as he saw the panic start in on her face.

He tightened the grip on her hand and she clung to it.

Slowly, inexorably, she felt herself fading, becoming the indistinct, vague spirit of before.

"You'll keep your promise?" she asked Dean, her voice fading away as the world became blurry and dark.

"I will," he answered. His hand started to slip through hers. "Goodbye, Jess."

His fingers closed on empty air.


End file.
